


the best luck of all

by doubtthestars



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 21:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: The last 24 hours were pretty much the worst in his life. Food poisoning bad enough to send him to the hospital, having to get his mother to shuttle him back home because his car was still making a mysterious noise and another tattoo appearing on his skin.





	the best luck of all

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abellyofjelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abellyofjelly/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a thousand times more funnier than it ended up being. An alternate title could be Lucky & Sunny.
> 
> Massive thanks to the mods of springfling for everything they do, including deadline extensions for when my weekend got too hectic for me to finish this thing on time.

"It’s not very romantic,” His mother’s skeptical tone fills the quiet car. She insisted on never having the radio on because it distracted her from driving. Mario almost groaned if not for the fact that she would immediately turn the car back around to the hospital if he did. He instead valiantly rolled his eyes at her. He wouldn’t suffer for it in his already delicate state. Her frown became more pronounced but she said nothing else, clearly baiting him for his own opinion. Mario still hadn’t wrapped his head around it, not with the events preceding it, namely puking up what felt like half his body weight and passing out from dehydration. 

Andre would probably try to inspect every meal item that passed through their door for the next three months before settling enough to joke about it. Mario had thought it was just a bug before it got _really_ bad. 

“I don’t think it was meant to be romantic,” He offers up neutrally. Everyone knew the first overture was designed for that reason. After that, any tattoo was fair game for whatever expression of self you wanted. Though, it was admittedly a really odd and really bold tattoo on the inside of his arm. ‘Marco’ spelled out in old gothic lettering with a date underneath it. He was three years older than him, but Mario had guessed that he was older by the timing of his overture ink.

“Well, it is certainly unexpected. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you? I can get you more groceries.” Mario sighed. It was tempting but he wanted to spend some time without anyone hovering like it was a sport and they were trying to train for the Olympics. He was sure he would be seeing a lot more of his brothers doing her dirty work and checking up on him. The upside was Fabian’s girlfriend made amazing cookies and would surely send some his way if they survived the car ride. Fabian was greedy.

“It wasn’t our home-cooking that put me in the hospital, mom. Besides Andre told me you got dad to clean out our fridge and cabinets in case of any lingering food threats. They found some bad mustard, and in our defense, I’m pretty sure we didn’t buy that. I think David left it there, for some reason.” He trailed off, not really sure why David had left the mustard. It must have been on a night they tried an experimental recipe.

“Alright, I understand. You don’t want your mother doting on you. Look into getting your car fixed at the very least.” 

He could feel his face heat up in embarrassment. It wasn’t a complete necessity and he was somewhat afraid of hearing it was worse than he thought. 

“I will, as soon as I find a good mechanic.” He took in a deep breath, “and thanks, for coming.” Mario definitely owed his parents more visits after this and if he ever got his car fixed, it would be a much easier task to schedule. Even with Felix still in the house with them, they probably missed having more people around. Mario had taken to independence much better than Fabian who visited their family home at least once a month. He winced, turning back to the window. The rift he felt between them had only come around when his overture ink came in six years ago. 

-

It had happened in the afternoon. He wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling his soulmate had skipped a lesson or had been too impatient to schedule something in the evening. Mario was lucky wristbands were somewhat in fashion and he had nicked Fabian’s pair for a week before stuffing them into his school bag. They smelled a little like processed cheese but were wide enough to hide the evidence of his overture. He wanted to marvel over it for more than the twenty minutes he had by locking himself in a stall at lunch but he had classes to pay attention to. 

He wasn’t the first to get one in his class, not even the first to get one during school hours, but there was nothing he could really share. It was an unusual design that didn’t fall under any of the common symbology. Two clovers and wings wrapped around his wrist. The shading and line work wasn’t spectacular but it was professionally done. Mario knew what the sort of stick and poke pointillism designs looked like from some of the more adventurous kids he had seen around.

Some covert googling hadn’t turned up any new information and Mario spent most of his history class wondering what kind of person would get that design, what it meant as an overture. Did his soulmate liked bird, or flying, did the clovers mean he felt lucky to have another half. 

Most people spend their adolescence dreaming up sketches of their first contact, the message they wanted to convey on their skin. It was important and many cultures around the world had different customs on how to approach it. You could get something unique, something with meaning that only you and your soulmate would decipher or you could follow the index of symbols. You could find a unique artist that would give away location. There were databases filled with how to spot styles and compare them with other’s portfolios. 

Mario hadn’t thought up any overture design. He wasn’t fond of needles and somehow always thought he would be the one receiving a sign first. It made it easier that he was presumably the younger one if his soulmate had waited until he was old enough to legally get a tattoo. He had rarely seen anybody want their parents to be with them for the first time.

His parents hadn’t married as soulmates. Fabian hadn’t gotten anything yet and Felix was too young to worry about it. 

He was the first to get proof of a soulmate in his family. Someone was out there with the same ink on his wrist who could be a match better than anyone else for him. Mario wasn’t sure if he should be elated or terrified. 

They didn’t celebrate it at dinner. Felix was riveted by the sight and Fabian had hugged him while still looking a little sad about his own fortune. He didn’t tell him there was still time if he truly believed. There was still hope that Fabian could get an overture or he could get his done in a year, but he already heard him talking over the phone to his friends, that maybe he would just follow in their parent’s footsteps. _There wasn’t anything wrong with that, right >_

“Are you going to try one of those matching sites?” His father asks. Mario itches with the phantom disapproval he thinks he hears. They didn’t understand the driving force under his skin every time he caught a glimpse of the ink. He wanted to seek his soulmate out but he was pragmatic. His parents had taught all of them that there were no guarantees and they had made it work without bearing a single mark.

“No, I can wait. There’s still school to worry about,” Mario forces a smile, before turning back to his plate.

-

Predictably, Andre took three seconds to fuss over him before seeing the newest addition to his collection of tattoos. 

“It could’ve been worse, he could have included his phone number.” Mario speared him with his fiercest glare which in his current condition wasn’t very convincing or threatening. It wasn’t the first time he had wished his soulmate-Marco-chose a more discreet spot for all his art. Mario didn’t hide the marks. His family’s curiousity had cured him of any sort of privacy issue and he owned a respectable amount of tank tops and short sleeved shirts to hide it at all times. 

He frowned down at his arm. Marco had chosen to get all of his tattoos on his left arm. They had three now. It wasn’t an unusual placement. Some people preferred the chest or the back for discretion but the arm had enough space for versatility. 

“It would be easier to find him if he had,” He sighs. Maybe he’ll be lucky enough to find Marco before he added anything else to their arms.

“Aw cheer up, jelly bear. I bribed Jerome with sushi to come over and entertain us with his marvelous wit.” Andre liked to try out strange endearments on Mario. It was part and parcel of being his best friend. 

“Sushi?” He perks up.

Andre wags a finger, “None for you. You’re going to have a nice and safe bowl of soup.” 

“That’s not fair. You know I love sushi,” Mario whines. It was just like them to taunt him with food. Boa had a well-hidden cruel streak and a damn good poker face when called out on it. Andre was just mean. 

“Life isn’t fair, sugar bug.” He poked his forehead, quick as a snake, taking advantage of his slow reaction time. “Anyway, you’re in charge of picking the movie because we’re nice, but we are not going to be generous with the sushi. You were reenacting the Blair Witch Project in our bathroom. It was disgusting and scary.” Andre dialed back his humorous deflection for a moment, staring at him earnestly with worry. 

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m going to take a shower and eat soup without complaint. Probably going to get a nap in before Jerome shows up.” He mumbles out before getting a solid bear hug he could see coming a mile away.

“Okay, if you’re not out in thirty minutes, I will barge in there to save you from drowning.” Andre warns before crossing into the kitchen to make a racket. Mario laughed softly. Everything was as it should be for now.

-

Andre was pouring Jerome a drink as they sat down to eat in front of the flatscreen. Mario had decided on one of the Fast and Furious movies, the sixth one was his favorite much to the disapproval of David and Andre when it first came out. 

Jerome sniffed the amber liquid in his glass with a confused look on his face. 

“What is this?” Andre looked at the bottle he had in his hand as if he could somehow understand Japanese in the two minutes he took to survey it. 

“Sake?” He shrugged. Jerome leveled a stare at Andre that would make lesser men flinch. He had been a bartender for a while, working nights and finishing his degree simultaneously. If anyone would know what wasn’t sake, it would be Jerome. Andre lost their staring contest and whipped out his phone like a lifeline, texting someone without missing a beat.

“It smells floral and sake doesn’t have this color.” Boa explains patiently before taking a sip. “Definitely more alcoholic,” He clears his throat before drinking more. That was much more approval than he usually had for Andre’s foisted upon drinks on Friday nights. 

“Michael says it’s shochu.” Andre pronounces it slowly but triumphantly.

“You got this from your boss? I didn’t know he was into expensive imports.” Jerome says suspiciously. He and Mario had differing opinions than Andre when it came to Michael Ballack.

“Maybe he isn’t. He gave it to me spontaneously, like a unwanted re-gift or he was just being nice. I _am_ a good employee.” Andre batted his eyelashes at Jerome. Mario sighed as he reached out from under his blanket, left over from his nap on the couch, to get his water bottle. Floral and adventurous drinks were not on the agenda for him today. 

Jerome choked on his shochu.

“Oh yeah, I told you he got a new one overnight at the hospital right? My current theory is Mario’s soulmate got that instead of a medical bracelet, or he’s afraid of getting a concussion and forgetting who he is so he got it as a tattoo.” Andre chattered, noticing where Jerome’s eyes were glued. 

Mario raised an eyebrow, questioning the merit of that wild theory and sliding a glance to Boa, who still looked a little shocked and had put down his glass firmly on the table 

It wasn’t that weird. He defensively retracted his arms into his lap.

“Um, either I’m having shochu induced deja vu or I’ve seen that tattoo before.” Jerome said shakily, before meeting Mario’s wide eyes. Appropriately, the car chase on screen ended in a loud explosion before Andre yelled out a “WHAT”.

-

Mario took a whole week of normal workdays and activities before he broke like a soggy wafer. Jerome had taken a whole day to figure out where exactly he had seen his tattoo, much to his desperation. 

He finally linked him to the facebook post of an arm freshly inked from the parlor’s page. Boa had explained he followed them after Toni recommended one of the artists and had been mindlessly scrolling through his feed when he had seen the strange tattoo. Rarely did anyone get names unless they were deceased relatives or their children. Mario had vaguely tuned him out to investigate further. The post had the artist tagged and a line about the apprentice growing up. There was another picture in the batch with two men pointing at the kid. The one on the left had his arm wrapped but his tattoo was clearly visible. It was his soulmate.

It was Marco.

“This is like, like one of those stories you hear about. How crazy is it that you’re this close to meeting your soulmate and all because Jerome recognized a picture online.” Andre blurted out excitedly, driving with a smile that would annoy any other driver in a road rage. He had refused to take a no for an answer. He had even taken a personal day, claiming a family emergency to accompany Mario to the parlor. 

“It’s a small world.” Mario felt ill. 

He didn’t think it would be like this, gearing up to find his soulmate. The world was moving too fast and too slow simultaneously for his senses. Everything he had ever known about himself and his soulmate was unmoored and floating in a big sea of anxiety. 

Mario had never had a picture in his head of his soulmate but somehow Marco surpassed whatever expectations he could’ve set for himself. If someone else was in his place and he had to describe it, he would probably call it love at first sight. It bothered him but it felt scarily inevitable. He had to go on this quest to find Marco, to see if he would be as surprised by Mario as he was by him. A part of him still couldn’t believe the circumstances that led him here. An even smaller part nagged Mario to hold onto some frightful hope that everything would be okay, would be better than okay.

Because this was what was meant to happen to him. This was why his skin echoed Marco’s. 

“Mario,” Andre turned with blue eyes full of affection and more importantly, encouragement. “We’re here.” 

Mario gulped down some fresh air, “Let’s go, before I lose my nerve or my lunch.”

“No throwing up for the rest of the year, Goetze.” 

They went into Hero Ink! together to find a clean and colorful interior. The walls all borrowed elements of modern pop art and comic book font. There were some framed pictures of famous comics by the reception desk. Binders were stacked in a bookcase with a silhouette of Batman behind it. The motif of yellow and black was broken by action words. Andre looked almost gleeful at the cardboard cutout of Robin that greeted him. It was better than a generic doorbell and served the same purpose. Mario saw an asian man sitting at his station with a woman straddling her chair and another man who was spinning at a desk stopped to watch them.

“Auba, new customer,” He yelled towards the back of the open room before jauntily walking to the reception desk and smiling charmingly at them.

“Hey, welcome to Hero Ink!, how can we help make your life more awesome?” Andre almost looked like he was contemplating getting something done in hopes of basking in the nerdy glory. Mario shifted on his feet.

“Uh, well, I wanted-I mean I don’t know if-I have this tattoo and-” Mario stuttered out uselessly. His thoughts jumbling and tripping over his tongue before rolling up his sleeve to show the man Marco’s tattoo.

“Holy shit,” he breathed out. “You’re Marco’s soulmate? Holy--Auba, get your ass out here!” Mario felt relief that he didn’t need to explain. It seemed Marco was well known in the shop for some reason. Andre was nonchalantly flipping through a binder behind him. Finally, a man came out of the back with a short mohawk of natural hair and a face that looked prone to being cheerful, full of laughter lines. He looked bemused, taking off black gloves with practiced ease. 

“Mats, what is the commotion about?” 

The newly identified Mats opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Andre.

“Did you do this?” Mario turns around to see him pointing at a spread of flowers across someone’s back in the binder in his hands. 

“Yeah, that’s mine. Interested in getting anything done today? I’m Pierre Aubameyang. Auba to my friends.” He says in a friendly tone. Andre goes pink to Mario’s astonishment. He looks at Mats and Mats rolls his eyes. No help found there. He clears his throat, willing himself not to choke. 

“Do you know Marco, or where I could find him?” He glanced at Andre who was inching closer and turning redder by the second. 

“Yes?” Aubameyang finally takes in the scene not focused on Andre and lets out a string of curses in an array of languages that anyone would be impressed with. Mats throws up his arms in exasperation, making an unattractive cross of a snort and a scoff.

“Good, finally, you notice that we have Marco’s soulmate in front of us instead of flirting with a customer, _Batman_. I thought I would let you do the honors since you’re best bros, platonically married for life and everything.” Mats took a phone out of his pocket and wiggled it at Aubameyang. 

“You shouldn’t have your phone out on the floor.” He said before snatching it out of his hands and unlocking it. 

“I changed the passcode last week, how do you already know it?” Aubameyang laughs at Mats’ misfortunate squawk. Andre looks more and more besotted. If it weren’t his only chance at possibly hearing his soulmate’s voice, Mario would’ve been outside, taking some deep breaths. He was still tempted. 

“Hey bro, you have to come to the shop straight from work.” He pauses and Mario strains to hear the response. “No, Mats didn’t pierce any genitalia today. No, no, listen to me, yes. Just get it on the way. I’m not telling you to skip food.” He huffs, “I can’t tell you. It’s not a prank and your birthday isn’t coming up. Marco, how long have we known each other. I’m serious. I would tell you to just come here right now but you already took off time for the weekend and I’m my own boss.” 

“Yes, yes, goodbye.” Pierre shakes his head fondly before pocketing the phone and gifting him a gentler smile. 

“Would you like to come back to my office? It’s a slow day and I’m sure I can find some incriminating pictures on _my_ phone so you can see Marco without it being awkward. Mats, get back to work.”

Mario contemplates it for a moment. His father always said the best way to judge a man is by the company he keeps. If Pierre Aubameyang was Marco’s best friend then surely he could get a gauge on Marco that way. He agrees with Andre practically breathing down his neck in eagerness to get into a room with the other man.

“Don’t go through my phone. I have nudes on there.” Mats grumbles but goes back to the station where he was spinning at before. 

Auba winks at them, “Don’t worry Mats, I’ll delete them for you.”

-

Auba-he insisted on the nickname-had a remarkable gift of putting Mario at ease. His anxiety was no longer churning in his gut, ready to charge into fight or flight. It was in the open way he told stories about how Marco and he met, how they became thick as thieves, and even how Auba changed his career on Marco’s advice. He helped Mario and Andre feel like they had known each other for ages as they spent some time in his backroom office and then moved to the eatery down the street for a snack break.

He told him Marco would be around in two hours since it was a Tuesday and time was winding down. Mario double-checked his appearance in the bathroom, a light grey sweater that wasn’t entirely reasonable but it looked good and the temperature was still cooler in the evenings so he had an excuse. Dark wash jeans that weren’t too tight but still accentuated his body. 

“It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.” He repeated to himself under his breath. Love didn’t have a set course. Maybe it wasn’t the right time just yet. Maybe he still had some waiting to do or Marco was already seeing someone else. Not everyone held to the notion of waiting until their soulmate came along. Andre certainly didn’t and he was seconds away from making out with Auba, witnesses be damned. 

He should’ve asked and not assumed Marco was single, but the tattoos were a sign, weren’t they? Mario looked at the latest and biggest one of the arsenal, traced it semi-fondly. If it weren’t for the strange mark he wouldn’t be here worried he was on the precipice of a giant mistake or the best thing to ever happen to him. He rolled up both of his sleeves.

“Okay, Marco, I’m here.” He meets his own eyes in the mirror with determination. “I can wait.”

There was a commotion outside. Mario steeled himself as he opened the door to not find Marco but Andre looking shocked and Auba half out of his shirt. Mats looked delighted and had a phone (a different one?) in his hands recording the scene. Auba and Andre were talking over each other in fragments. As he approached, Mario could see the evidence of why, right on Auba’s back.

“How is this even possible?” 

“This was supposed to be the day Mario found his soulmate not me. Put your shirt back on. I can’t do this with your abs in my face.” Andre covers his eyes as his voice goes up an octave higher than the time Mario convinced him karaoke was a good idea and a falsetto would showcase his talent. Mats starts cackling maniacally.

“Andre, you’re not stealing my moment. Your soulmate is right there! Stop thinking about my emotional well-being,” Mario chastises him exasperatedly. 

Of course, that’s when Marco shows up. 

“I didn’t bring in any food, but there might be a bag of fries in the car with your name on it. Why are you stripping in front of your customers?” Mario startles and whirls around to make eye contact with his soulmate.

“Oh my god, Ann picked a hell of a day to get sick. It’s like a double wedding in here.” Mats wheezed. 

He could almost see Marco get the clue in slow motion. Mario didn’t have his wrist covered unlike Marco, who had some tape around his overture, the first of the tattoos that fit better on his arm than they looked on Mario’s. He can hear Andre squeaking in surprise and Auba barking at Mats to cut it out but it’s all distant as he catalogues the shifts in expression on Marco’s face.

“Marco, this is Andre Schuerrle and Mario Goetze. Mario came here to find you.” Auba uses a milder tone when introducing them. Marco sags in relief before smiling, the right side of his lips hitching a little higher than the left. Mario feels his heart racing in his chest like he had just done five miles on a treadmill. 

“It worked. It actually worked.” His soulmate sounds dazed with wonder, incredulous at the sight of him being there. 

Mario stands still until Andre pushes him forward.

“Hi,” he laughs breathlessly.

-

Andre wanted to grill Marco about his intentions as part of his best friend’s duties but Auba had stopped that in its track by pulling him away for a conversation of their own about soulmates and what they would do about their situation.

They had walked out of the parlor to a bench down the street in silence. He wasn’t sure where to begin and Marco seemed pole-axed still. 

“What did you mean by it worked?” was not the first question he meant to ask but as soon as he sat down with scarce space between them, it had come out of his mouth in a rush. Marco jiggled his leg up and down with nerves. Mario pressed his lips together in an effort to not blurt out anything else before he was ready. He wanted to hear Marco speak. 

“The tattoo. It was--It _is_ weird to have your own name and birthday on your arm right? I thought it might make it easier. I don’t know. Shinji had said something about unusual tattoos getting more attention and I remembered Neven had dared Mats to get his own name tattooed because he was making a joke about how much he loved himself. I mean I also did it for myself. I didn’t just do it on a whim.” He hastily explains and Mario laughs making Marco still for a moment.

“I was worried,” Mario admits. “I thought you were giving up, like it was a last-ditch effort to get my attention? I hadn’t reciprocated a sign in six years and my parents made it work without being soulmate so why couldn’t you?” It was a fear he had never said out loud.

Marco’s eyes went wide, “I wouldn’t. I _knew_ you were out there somewhere. I wouldn’t give up on finding you.” Mario felt his heart plunge into his stomach before swooping up again in dizzy anticipation.

“How did you know?” 

Marco tapped at his knee. 

“The scar. It’s not just tattoos that transfer.” Marco brushed a diagonal line across the side of his knee and Mario didn’t need to see it in the dying light of the sun because he knew exactly what it looked like on his own knee. It wasn’t very common for scars to be echoed. They had to be deep. He could barely remember his adventure in the woods that had led to it.

“I must have been five? when that happened, you knew since then?” Marco nods.

“You’ve been part of me for a lot longer than six years. I felt it burn when I was eight and saw it appear like magic. Ten years later I got my overture done so you would know as well. Auba did my second one.” He points at the quote on his bicep, “and Dembouz did this one. How did you find me? Or Auba’s place?” 

“My friend recognized the tattoo from their facebook page.” 

“Wow, that’s lucky.” Marco whistled.

“Is it? Our best friends are soulmates too. Those are a lot of odds to beat. I’ve always been scared of whatever this meant, how we’re meant to be together because of destiny but now that I’m here in front of you, I feel pretty calm.” Mario avoids meeting his eyes. 

“I’m not,” He looks up, “I feel like I’m in that haze right after a long dream when you’re not sure if you’re really awake. You said your parents weren’t soulmates right? My parents are, and they’re really happy, but I knew I wasn’t going to be like them when I found my soulmate--you. They’re really similar people deep down and I didn’t want to get wrapped up in expectation that you would be just like me. I got my name to remind myself that as much as I wanted to find you, I also had other things to find out about myself so I could be a good fit too.”

“That’s...a really good answer. I’ll be sure to tell Andre to give you his seal of approval if he survives Auba.” Marco chuckles.

They stare at the evening sky for a moment, the pinks and purples soothing.

“If you need time, we don’t need to touch yet. It all happened pretty fast. It’s only been a week since I got this tattoo.” The first touch of soulmates would establish a link that would hold until the day they died. Most pairs could feel if they touched each other’s ink. Some reported a deeper bond where they could feel strong emotions. It all depended on them.

“I just have one more question.” Mario felt the precipice again. He breathed in slowly and exhaled evenly.

“I always wondered what the first one meant, your overture. I thought at first, that the wings were more important, if it meant something like freedom, but then, I felt like the clovers were the focus of it. And all I know is they symbolize luck.” Marco smiled his crooked smile again.

“You’re right, but they symbolize more than that. The leaves are supposed to stand for faith, love and hope, and if you find one with four that’s where the lucks comes from because they’re rarer the three leafed ones. When I was little, I really wanted to find a four leaf clover. I went on ‘missions’ to find some luck and the day you got that scar, I realized I was already lucky enough to have someone out there. I never found a four leaf clover so I got two on my wrist instead, one for me and one for you.” 

“We are really lucky, aren’t we?” Mario reached out for Marco’s hand. They could leap into this beginning together.

**Author's Note:**

> The best luck of all is the luck you make for yourself-Douglas McArthur. Also my reference pic for Marco's tattoos [x](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/08/f0/c4/08f0c45edd758d919543e3c70ff3a6c2.jpg)


End file.
